


California Dreaming

by samurai-ashes (ashes)



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh
Genre: F/M, M/M, Suspense, Tragedy
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2010-12-24
Updated: 2013-10-13
Packaged: 2017-10-14 00:44:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 7
Words: 7,471
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/143453
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ashes/pseuds/samurai-ashes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Following Kaiba's sudden death, a much-older Jounouchi learns how to be alone again -- cruising self-destruction all the while. Meanwhile, the police discover that there's more to the "accidental" death than meets the eye...</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Jounouchi Still Remembers

**I**

Jounouchi still remembers how Kaiba smelled when he stepped out of the shower. Kaiba never wore cologne – it was just the slightly sweet scent of his body wash and the spice of his deodorant. Even as far apart as they are now, Jounouchi can smell it like Kaiba is standing behind him.

Even in the desolate reek of the morgue, Jounouchi can smell it. His shoes tapping the blank tile as he crosses the room, he looks down at Kaiba, bare on a gurney, and wonders if it should be overpowered by death, or maybe if it's permeating from the box of his personal effects on the floor.

Accidental. Jounouchi reaches out to touch Kaiba's pallid face, but the nurse grabs his wrist. "You'll want to keep him uncontaminated until the police arrive. The fewer prints..."

"My prints are already on him," he says – his voice sounds foreign. She blinks at him without comprehension for several seconds before he realizes that he's spoken in English. He repeats himself – he's already left prints on the body. It seems an understatement. His prints are burnt into Kaiba's skin, permanently etched, like the faint web of scars across Kaiba's back. Jounouchi's prints will follow Kaiba to the grave. She looks around like she expects to be caught before she lets his wrist go.

It feels like a century later when the police arrive. Kaiba's face is chilled.

#

When Mokuba arrives he's wearing jeans and a t-shirt – Jounouchi vaguely remembers that it's Saturday afternoon. They had been planning to have dinner to meet Mokuba's fiancée. It all feels so dim, like recollections of a story he read a long time ago. Mokuba's face is still, his lips set in a straight line. He looks like Kaiba in some ways.

"He looks like pictures of our father," Mokuba says. Jounouchi remembers, with sudden and uncomfortable clarity, the morbid morgue photos Kaiba acquired when they were nineteen. Nineteen had been a rough year – morgue pictures of the birth father had been the least of it. Jounouchi feels a prickling in his chest. "When – "

"This morning," Jounouchi says – it slips out in English again, but Mokuba understands. "On our way – " He chokes on the word "home." He stumbles to the trash can in the corner and retches. His cheeks are wet, and despite his lunch being at the bottom of a pail he feels heavier than ever.

#

Mokuba's fiancée seems appropriately upset when Mokuba and Jounouchi arrive at the estate. It looks the same but feels like someone else's house. They had moved out when they were twenty, locking the doors and leaving it to a handful of caretakers. Kaiba and Mokuba, with an unsure Jounouchi in tow, took off for California. When Mokuba was twenty-two he had moved back to Japan to run the branch of Kaiba Corporation. Jounouchi wants to go back to the condo, back home where Kaiba's pillows still smell like him. Jounouchi can feel his chest shrinking as he thinks about their bed.

Mokuba's fiancèe's name is Elle. She has tight brown curls and narrow eyes, and she follows Mokuba dutifully as they make their way through the mansion, back towards the den. Mokuba takes a seat on the couch, and she stands near the door with one hand on the knob. Jounouchi takes the chair next to Kaiba's favorite armchair (next to the patio doors in case he ever needed to make a run for it).

"You should stay with us," Mokuba says. Jounouchi shakes his head – in a small way Elle mirrors this motion. "You can't go home yet. It's too soon."

Jounouchi looks over at the patio doors. The seat to his left is too empty. He doesn't want to speak, just in case he breaks. He manages to open his mouth and breath deep. "I keep expecting him to..." The sentence squeaks to a halt, and Mokuba looks at his hands.

"I know." Mokuba's voice is thick. "I told the police to contact me if they find anything." Jounouchi doesn't point out that Mokuba takes charge like his brother. Elle is still standing in the doorway. Jounouchi can't help but feel like she's intruding.

"Is anyone...? Tea," she says, and exits quickly. Jounouchi hates tea. He looks at Mokuba; Mokuba stands and closes the den door and locks it. Leaning against the door, Mokuba lets himself cry.

"Mokuba – "

"I don't want her to..." Mokuba wipes his face with his palms. Now Jounouchi feels like the intruder. "I don't want her to tell me that it's okay." Mokuba is staring at the empty chair. "Please, just stay tonight. We can talk again tomorrow."

By the time Elle arrives with the tea Mokuba is composed. Jounouchi feels like he's falling apart.

#

Being alone in Kaiba's old bedroom is awful. Jounouchi remembers the first time they fell into this bed, shortly after a fight and too much gin – remembers the way Kaiba smiled in the dark like Jounouchi wouldn't notice. Thinking about Kaiba's smile, Jounouchi buries his face in the musty pillows and lets his heart break.

[tbc]


	2. Jounouchi Still Remembers

Jounouchi wakes up in the morning and keeps his eyes closed. He prays for the first time in years - _please let it be a nightmare. Give me another chance._

He wakes up alone. It smells like dust. His head is pounding and his mouth is dry and he can hear the dull roar of press outside. No matter what language they speak it sounds the same. The news reports are probably already going out, the live twitter updates of what the outside of the Kaiba Estate looks like. Jounouchi knew it wouldn't take them long to pick up the scent of his personal disaster.

Still wearing his clothes from the day before, Jounouchi meanders to the window. He pulls back the curtains enough to see the wave of bodies. He shudders at the sight and pulls the curtain closed. He steps slowly into the hall, and is grateful to catch a maid skittering past. "Where's Mokuba?" he asks. His voice is raspy. She looks away from him.

"Waiting for you in the dining room, sir."

Mokuba and Elle are sitting at the massive oak table with the cop from yesterday. There's an untouched plate of danishes between them. "Jounouchi," Mokuba says at the same time that the cop says, "Mr. Jounouchi."

"How should we handle them?" Jounouchi asks. It's familiar - Mokuba understands. "Conference?"

Mokuba nods. "I think so."

"Who should speak?" the cops asks.

"You," Jounouchi says. "Just the facts."

"Are we taking questions?" Mokuba asks. Yesterday he seemed so much like Kaiba; today he looks twelve again. Jounouchi wishes Kaiba were there to direct the fiasco. Only Kaiba could turn an accidental death into a circus.

The word accidental bothers Jounouchi like something stuck in his teeth. "Yes," he says. "Be ready in an hour."

  
**#**   


Someone brought his suitcase from the car. Jounouchi gets into the suit he packed for Mokuba's wedding and decides he'll need to get a new one for the big day. Adjusting his tie in the mirror, Jounouchi wonders if taking questions was the right choice. His hands are shaking, his fingers slipping as he adjusts his collar. He hopes he can stay composed for Kaiba's sake.

Elle is dressed all in black, and Jounouchi nearly snaps - the funeral is later. It was going to look bad. Mokuba looks professional but scared, and like he hadn't slept at all. Someone has set up up a podium at the top of the front steps, microphones and sound system and all. Jounouchi had forgot how quickly Domino snapped together to answer the demands of the Kaiba family. He still remembered their last press conference on the steps, before they all went to the States at twenty. They had planned the answers for months.

An unnatural hush falls over the crowd as they step up to the dais. The cop takes the forefront and clears his throat. "The rumors are true."

Questions explode from the wall of people; for a moment Jounouchi feels like the force of it will knock him over.

"What was the cause of death?" one reporter, selected by the cop, asks. Jounouchi notices patrolmen around the edges of the crowd with their cars and flashing lights. A right circus.

"An investigation is on-going, but we believe it to be accidental."

Is it so hard to say hit by a car? It's on the tip of Jounouchi's tongue when another reporter asks, "Detective Shintanda, why investigate an accident? Is it the high profile of the victim?"

Jounouchi nearly chokes on unfamiliar laughter - oh, he wishes Kaiba could hear the man call him a victim.

"We're just covering all the bases," the Detective replies. He looks convinced. Mokuba looks ill and has such a grip on Elle's hand that his knuckles are white.

"Mr. Kaiba, what does this mean for your upcoming wedding?"

Elle's face becomes an obvious mask, and Jounouchi watches her as Mokuba says, "We'll be postponing until further notice." Elle looks away, down at her shoes. "Keep your questions on topic."

"Who will fill in the gap at Kaiba Corporation overseas?"

Mokuba is more composed now, falling into the role of corporate head. "It's being discussed; no big decisions will be made until after the funeral." He turns to look at Jounouchi meaningfully. Again Jounouchi is reminded of Kaiba. He keeps himself from gagging; the world is starting to feel thick around him.

"Mr. Jounouchi."

The churning in his stomach pauses, pulses in time with his heartbeat. For a moment Jounouchi and the reporter are the only people in the world. He can't speak, so he nods to the man.

"What are your plans in light of Kaiba Seto's death?" He emphasizes the full name; Jounouchi wonders how it will look on a gravestone. The whole sea of monsters calms, waiting for him to speak. He tries to say, "I'll live," but he only laughs. He thinks Kaiba would understand.

  
**#**   


Later that afternoon Jounouchi gets a phone call from the overseas branch, Kaiba's secretary weeping and unsure of what to do with his office. He also gets a call from Michael's frantic uncle, demanding to know what Kaiba's death means for his nephew.

Jounouchi stares at himself in the mirror and wonders how he could have forgotten about the boy who was supposed to be their son.

  
**[tbc]**   



	3. That Night Elle is Absent

That night Elle is absent during dinner. Jounouchi pushes some vegetables around on his plate; Mokuba is staring at him with a mix of sympathy and confusion. Jounouchi considers a juicy chunk of roast beef but can't bring himself to put it in his mouth. "I'm sorry for laughing."

"I'm not mad." Mokuba has managed to eat about half of his dinner but otherwise appears to be in the same state as Jounouchi. "Would you consider _niisama_ 's old job?" Jounouchi looks up at him, and Mokuba rushes to explain, "No, not for real, but publicly. It's not that I don't trust you, but it's not your forte. It seems... Well, it's just you and me now. I want people to know that you're still family."

Just them. Jounouchi laughs again, but his eyes water. He doesn't want to talk about this, not now, not with Mokuba, not ever. But he has to. "There's something we wanted to tell you." His hands are shaking. Kaiba had actually smiled when he debated how to tell Mokuba. "I wanted him to do it."

#

Michael's uncle did some encryption in Kaiba's software department. He found himself the unwitting legal guardian of a four-year-old boy - Kaiba had overheard him talking on the phone with social services late one evening. "Giving up," Kaiba told Jounouchi when he recounted the event. "He actually thought it was going to be best to release Michael into the system, like throwing back a fish."

"You've never fished a day in your life."

"You're missing the point," Kaiba had said, sitting at his desk and tapping his fingertips on the desk. "Katsuya, I want to meet him. It feels right."

"Feels right?"

Kaiba nodded, and Jounouchi agreed - he would never deny Kaiba his feelings.

Secretly, Jounouchi didn't get his hopes up. They had talked about adopting before with so little success, even when things were nearly perfect in their mid-thirties. Kaiba needed it to be perfect. They had both understood so little about good parenting as they grew up that they knew that they couldn't go into halfhearted.

When they met Michael, with his startling blue eyes and dishwater hair, it all finally seemed perfect.

#

"Now?" Mokuba says it like he's been punched in the nuts, and Jounouchi thinks that Kaiba would have done it better. "Isn't it too late for this? I thought you'd decided not to."

"I know, but... We figured there was at least another forty years in us."

"Yeah." Mokuba exhales. "When were you going to..."

"When we... we were going to bring him home after the wedding. We didn't want to spring it on you like this." Jounouchi looks at a far wall and wonders what he'll say to Michael's uncle. He doesn't want to - it mattered to Kaiba, but Kaiba is cold in the morgue and Jounouchi doesn't want to do it without him. "It doesn't matter anymore."

The silence stretches until Mokuba, staring down at his food, breaks it softly: "Do you think we should bury _niisama_ here or in California?"

 _Wherever I can be near him_ , Jounouchi wants to say. Without Kaiba there to lead him he doesn't know where to go, what to do – Kaiba was the beat to his drum for so long that Jounouchi barely remembers how to play.

The house in California was always too big, even when there were two of them, but it had been home. But so had Domino, where they met and where they fell... "Here," Jounouchi says. If he doesn't decide now he'll never decide, and these things have to be done. Kaiba had never been one for procrastination. "I think I'll stay."

"Will your son be able to adjust?"

Jounouchi shakes his head; he doesn't want to say it out loud. He wants to go along a little longer, to pray that he'll wake up from this nightmare at any second. "He'll find another nice family. I'll see to it."

For the first time since Jounouchi's return Mokuba looks angry, and he can glare as hard as Kaiba ever had. "You should keep him. He was going to be your son. _Niisama_ 's son."

Jounouchi doesn't want a son, not without Kaiba.

#

Before dawn on the second morning after Kaiba's death – and he can finally say _death_ without losing his shit – Jounouchi takes Kaiba's usual seat in the den and meets with the best funeral director in the city. He has a snifter of brandy in one hand when the man enters the room. Jounouchi swirls his drink for show, and doesn't stand. "Thank you for coming on such short notice."

The funeral director is a funny little man in a nice suit. "Of course, Mr. Jounouchi. Anything I can do for your... family," the man says the word as though he's unsure. He shifts from foot and foot, his fingers tight on a binder that Jounouchi is sure illustrates his "options."

In California a lawyer is digging up Kaiba's last written will. Jounouchi is glad the paperwork is already done – all he has to do is give the word. He brings the cup to his lips, inhales deep the sweet aroma. He pauses, looks up at the director. "Pick him up from the morgue and arrange a service for Friday morning – is 48 hours enough notice?"

"Yes, of course. I'll put my best men on the arrangements. Will you be having it here?"

"Yes. Bring the body – "

 _Oh, God, is he only a body now?_ Unsettled and misaligned, Jounouchi drinks deep of his brandy. He had forgotten the burn, the sweet (if temporary) rush of calm from his stomach to his brain. He needs that calm right now, more than he needs air but not as much as he just _needs Seto._

"Sir?"

Jounouchi closes his eyes and breathes deep. "I want him here early, so the family can say goodbye. Privately. We'll set up in the parlor by the patio doors."

"It sounds very respectful, sir."

Was that all it took to put his lover in the ground? "Yes; please remember to keep it tasteful. This is Kaiba Seto we're talking about."

#

Afterwards, while the funeral director is scurrying to get the funeral of the decade in order, Jonouchi drinks half the brandy in the den and watches the sun rise over Domino city, over the green grass that workers were preparing for Kaiba's grave. Jounouchi tries to imagine what it would be like to bring their son to Domino. What would he say? "Welcome to your new home," he says aloud to their imaginary son. Jounouchi laughs, hiccups, and damn near cries into his glass. "Want to see Daddy's grave?"

And to think that Kaiba had nearly been someone's father.

 **[tbc]**


	4. Who Do You Invite to a Funeral

"Who do you invite to a funeral?" Jounouchi asks over another uneaten dinner. He's on his second glass of wine; the pain is slowly becoming background noise, the elevator music to his life. He feels like one of those has-been sports stars - nursing the chronic ache that ruined all his plans. Mokuba looks up, and Jounouchi is surprised to see the boy - no longer, Jounouchi reminds himself - man chewing.

"I don't think there are invitations, per se," Mokuba says after he swallows. "I've never... We've always attended the funerals."

"We can't just let anyone in. He wouldn't want to be on display like that."

Mokuba nods thoughtfully, eating some more food with what looks like genuine hunger. "A list, then. We'll check people at the door. Should we let the press in?"

Jounouchi doesn't like the way Mokuba is slipping back into his normal skin. It's too soon; Kaiba isn't even buried yet. "No. Let them get their kicks at some other funeral."

"Yeah." Mokuba stares down at his dinner plate. Jounouchi finishes his wine and reaches for the bottle to pour himself another glasses. "Jounouchi? What do you think _niisama_ would want me to do about the wedding?"

Looking up, Jounouchi realizes that he hasn't seen Elle since the press conference. "I... Why would you ask me?" He needs a stiffer drink, but settles for the third glass of wine. "He was your brother - you know him better than I did." It hurt to say that aloud. It had always been true, though; Jounouchi was never been privy to the bond that Kaiba shared with Mokuba. Their phone calls and e-mails were always most private thing in Kaiba's life. It stopped bothering Jounouchi (mostly) in his late twenties.

"That was true," Mokuba looks up from his plate with a certain shy curiosity, "when I was a teenager, or even ten years ago, but for years he kept his confidence in you. He loved you enough to let you shoulder his burdens."

Funny how Jounouchi had never noticed the weight. He feels an all-too-familiar prickling in his chest. Lead in his stomach. When had his mourning become a litany of clichés? "We didn't really talk about this scenario. He was happy that you were in love. He did - " Jounouchi pauses, the full thought unravelling in his mind before he voices it. _He did hope you would be as happy as we were._ Jounouchi clears his throat and sips his wine with god-like restraint. "He hoped your marriage would be perfect."

"So did I."

Mokuba doesn't finish his dinner that night, though he's bounds ahead of Jounouchi, who hadn't even started.

#

"You know," Kaiba said, "I still haven't thought about the speech I'm supposed to give at the reception."

"Say what comes to heart."

Kaiba laughed shortly, so rare and infectious that Jounouchi couldn't help but smile. "You've always said that like it comes easily. I don't think I loved you so much, at first, as I did your ability to work so easily with what comes to your heart."

Jounouchi wakes with a start, bolt upright. He holds his breath before he looks over, only to be disappointed again. His memories are the dream - the dead are the reality. A moment passes with his breath the only sound.

Then his stomach growls loud enough that it may have been a monster under the bed, or at least what had woken Jounouchi up. The clock at his bedside reads 2:27AM. Jounouchi sighs. He needs food. He wants to sleep until the universe gives Kaiba back for good.

Instead he stands, pulls on some jeans and a sweater, and finds the keys to the car that Mokuba is letting him borrow. He steps into the hall.

"Don't you dare blame this on me!"

Jounouchi freezes in a panic, searching frantically for the source of the voice. A thin strip of light shines from under the door to the master suite. Unsure, Jounouchi listens.

"I'm not, I'm not," Mokuba says, his words apologetic where his tone is not. "No one would have predicted this. But I need you to understand where I'm coming from. We can't get married two weeks after my brother's death!"

"Why not? Do you realize how hard your superstitious delay is for _my_ family? They're not like you, they can't afford to get another plane ticket in six months, or a year, or whenever you crawl out of your brother's grave and rejoin the living."

It's the most Jounouchi has ever heard Elle say at once.

"It's not like that. Yes, I'm mourning, but I also intend to respect my brother by letting him settle before I move on."

"Oh my God," Elle bursts. "It's always so theatric with you, your family - you treat every single thing like life or death. If we had just gotten married in Italy like I wanted - "

"You'd have me be a grocer in Italy, like your father!"

"A happy grocer! A married grocer! A grocer with a - " A sound like a sob interrupts her speech. "I can't keep waiting to start our lives, to start a family. I've waited for you for so long." She's softer now, subdued - broken? Jounouchi can't help but feel guilty; what chaos has he introduced into their lives? What chaos in their lives has he not known about?

Mokuba's voice is quieter, but no less relenting. "What's one more year?"

Elle laughs, but it sounds more like crying. Jounouchi remembers the feeling, wants to interrupt to assure her that it will pass. "What's a decade? After nine years... I can't do this, Mokuba. Maybe I can't be the wife a Kaiba son needs. I'm not hard enough for this."

Jounouchi walks away, unable to hear anymore, unwilling to bear witness to anymore pain. He has enough of his own, without Elle's to add.

#

He finds himself at a loud diner near the airport where he and Kaiba last enjoyed lunch. He orders two cups of coffee and sets one on the other side of the booth. The steam is like a phantom keeping him company. Jounouchi drinks his while he looks over the menu.

"Would you like to wait for your friend before you order?" his waitress, a plump matronly woman with dark hair, asks with a matronly smile.

Jounouchi shakes his head. "He could be a while. He wouldn't want me to wait." Swallowing bitter bile that builds up in his mouth, Jounouchi orders toast and poached eggs, handing the menu back to the waitress with a plaster smile. When his dinner/breakfast arrives he looks up to notice a gaggle of younger waitresses looking at him from behind the cash register. One of the girls, with a ring in one nostril and long platinum hair, seems to silence the others.

She steps around the counter and walks over to him. Despite her noticeable looks she has an unassuming walk, a natural muted stance in her gait. She stands at his table. He takes a bite of his eggs. They're probably delicious, but taste like ash on his tongue.

"Mr. Jounouchi?" She has a familiar cadence to her voice, and the plumps and points of her features remind him of... Her colorful name tag has "Alice" written in thick English letters. Jounouchi almost laughs, but doesn't want to embarrass himself if he's wrong.

"Alice Bakura?" he asks in English. She looks at her shoes and then over her shoulder. She nods. Despite having recognized her, Jounouchi can't help but stare for a moment. She smiles at him, one side of her mouth quirked higher in amusement. She looks a little more like her mother when she does that, if Jounouchi recalls the woman correctly.

"I haven't seen you since you were... God, seven?" The reality of having crossed paths with his old life disorients him a little. He hasn't thought of his old friends - or really anyone - since the accident. "How is your father?"

"Well," she replies, perfectly polite. "He had hoped to hear from you. He worries." She frowns at the untouched coffee across across the table. "I'll tell him you say hello."

"Thank you."

She turns back to her staring coworkers and shouts in the rudest Japanese Jounouchi can recall - the kind he remembers speaking at her age - "It's not him!" as she walks back to the register.

Jounouchi finishes his food without really tasting it, and wonders for a moment how his life could have been, without the tragedy that was Kaiba Seto.

#

Jounouchi wakes up late the next morning in the den, curled into the leather armchair - Kaiba's favorite - with a bottle of scotch between his knees. Elle is glaring at him from the doorway, but she walks away without speaking.


	5. Later That Night, Exhausted

Later that afternoon, exhausted from putting together the list of people allowed to the funeral, Jounouchi stops by the Kame Game Shop. The interior is unchanged from their teenage years - except for the owner.

Yuugi is leaning against the counter reading a Duel Monsters magazine. Jounouchi hadn't even realized they were still in print - Duel Monsters has changed so much since he was a teenager; he hasn't played in so long that he can't even follow the tournaments any more.

Yuugi was still largely the same. His face was more lined, his structure more padded, but his most distinctive feature - oh, that hair - is still as recognizable as ever. It's shorter, a bit less wild, just barely touched with grey, but it's definitely Yuugi.

"Keeping up appearances?" Jounouchi asks, smiling for the first time since Kaiba's death. Yuugi looks up and wilts, coming around the corner to hug Jounouchi tight around the chest. "Hey, we're men. Men don't hug."

Yuugi laughs. "I've been so worried since I heard." He backs away at arm's length. "How are you holding up?"

Jounouchi shrugs. He looks into Yuugi's face, and knows that they should say something - say anything about what's happened... but he can't. He scrambles for a topic, and all he can come up with is: "I've been better."

He removes himself from Yuugi's concerned orbit, crossing his arms over his chest for an insecure moment. He could tell Yuugi anything: he could talk about his dreams, about the adoption, about his desperation, but it all felt so wrong. Jounouchi has always been the strong one.

Aware of the silence, unable to fill it with Yuugi wants to hear, he falls back on small talk: "You won't believe who I ran into."

Yuugi raises an eyebrow, stepping back.

"Bakura's daughter - Alice. He's letting her work at the airport?"

"She insisted. I wouldn't have, but she's not my daughter. Would you like a drink? I put some coffee on not too long ago." Yuugi ushers him around the counter and to the door behind it that lead into the house.

"Should you leave the shop unattended?"

Yuugi sighs. "We'll hear if anyone enters." The word _if_ is so heavily weighted that it says enough. Jounouchi follows him into the sunny little kitchen, the aroma of strong coffee lifting his spirits a bit. He expects Yuugi's grandfather to come bustling through talking about the high school girls, expecting their friends to...

He catches his reflection in a mirrored "Home Sweet Home" sign that has been there since before Yuugi was born. His lined face, his sorrow-heavy eyes, the fine streaks of silver in his hair...

Yuugi sets two mugs on the table and indicates for Jounouchi to sit. Jounouchi does so, humbled by his reflection. Adam's homework is on the table in front of his mug.

Yuugi's son is nine, and well known to Jounouchi. He remembers showing the newborn's pictures to Kaiba. It was the third time they had discussed children, and when they had finally agreed that they were too old and settled to start.

When they were looking over the papers for Michael's adoption, Kaiba quietly confessed that he'd always been scared. Jounouchi had agreed.

"How are Adam and Anzu?" The sounds contrast strangely - Adam being the closest name Yuugi to find to "Atemu." Kaiba had - conspicuously - never commented on the choice.

"Well. Anzu is teaching dance class at the school this year, and Adam enjoys his new teacher. How long are you staying in Domino?"

Jounouchi sips his coffee and tries not to wish it were something stronger. "Until I'm dead as well." The prospect doesn't sound entirely unwelcome. "I can't go back to California now."

"What about your - "

"I don't think I'll keep him, but they're still waiting for me to make that decision." The ache of another loss feels like a coating on Jounouchi's skin.

Yuugi shakes his head. "You should. You can't begin to expect what it's like, and Kaiba wouldn't - "

"Don't." Jounouchi only barely quells shaking hands; he sees the tremor in the surface of his coffee. He takes another sip of his coffee without tasting it, filling his mouth and buying time to avoid talking about this. "I can't. Right now I just want to get through the funeral. It's tomorrow. Will you come?"

Yuugi nods, looking down into his drink. "I'm already tired of funerals. Every year there seems to be another. Did you hear about Mai?"

The mention of an old flame shakes Jounouchi just a little bit, recalling his last fling before he'd thrown himself into Kaiba and never looked back. They hadn't spoken in over a decade. "No."

"Motorcycle accident last year. They did a nice article on her life in the magazine. Not that people even know who was she was in the circles, or the things she did behind the scenes. It's all kids; if you even..." Yuugi snorts. "I'm starting to sound like Grandpa. He'd laugh if he heard me."

Jounouchi nods. The silence stretches, and Jounouchi tries to think of all the things he should be saying. He thinks about his mother. He should have called her by now - she might want to know that her only son is falling apart. "How's your mom?"

"Alright, all things considered. She doesn't have cancer, thankfully, but she's starting to remember less. She still remembers Adam, though."

"Good."

Small talk was a bad idea. Jounouchi feels pent-up, stretched at the seams. He stands abruptly, looking into the refrigerator. The same crappy beer his father used to drink. Jounouchi closes the refrigerator and rests his head against the freezer door.

"I can't do this anymore, Yuugi. It feels like years already, and he's not even buried. And the kid... How am I supposed to pull it together?" Jounouchi changes his mind; he gets a crappy beer from the refrigerator and looks at Yuugi after he the first sip.

Yuugi is the strong one, now that Jounouchi really considers the situation. Yuugi in their teens would have cried for him, heart-broken and raw. Yuugi in their mid-life looks him in the eye, only looking a little heart-broken. "A little early, isn't it?"

"It helps."

"Maybe now. In a month, when you can't face the day without a drink... Don't become your father, Jounouchi. You've already come too close to that."

In his late twenties, overwhelmed by the foreign culture he still didn't feel comfortable in and fearing his choice to stay with the absent, workaholic partner who hardly noticed him. Yuugi was the one to notice, even with an ocean between them. Jounouchi looks him in the eye, and can't keep it in any longer.

"I haven't been alone in so long, Yuugi. I don't know how to do it." Jounouchi sounds so small to his own ears - so lost. Kaiba had been the one to make him face facts all those years ago.

Kaiba wasn't here anymore.


	6. The Morning of the Funeral

The morning of the funeral dawns beautiful: sunny, unseasonably cool, and strangely quiet -- except outside the Kaiba estate. By eight AM there's a circus beyond the front fence, with a cadre of guards keeping them at bay and issuing statements.

They watch from the front steps; Mokuba and Elle both seem tense, but a part of Jounouchi almost finds it comforting. Domino was always crazy about Kaiba and his huge events; at least that hasn't changed.

"It looks too much like a party." Mokuba doesn't respond to the frenzy of flashbulbs or the shouted questions drifting on the wind. "Perhaps we should have leaked a false date and had the real funeral later."

Jounouchi shrugs. "They'd find out somehow."

"The Irish would celebrate his life, rather than mourn his death," Elle says, sudden and quiet. "It could be a party."

"We're not Irish," Mokuba replies. "And Domino has lost a legend -- it should be mourning." He turns and walks back into the house, leaving Jounouchi and Elle alone. She shakes her head as she looks at him.

"When are you leaving?" she asks.

"Should we have this conversation now?"

"Oh, sorry," she says without apology, "but I thought all Kaiba men handled these things without sensitivity. You have your own home in the city, why don't you stay there?"

Jounouchi wants to be angry at her, but he remembers the feeling -- Kaiba never had any sense of empathy or timing. It used to frustrate him to no end. "What you see as insensitive is in fact anything but. Mokuba will never sugar-coat his truths for you, and he will never let you labor under false pretenses. You're a lucky woman if you realize how valuable that is."

"Maybe I'd like a little sugar-coating once in awhile."

"Then maybe this isn't the right family for you."

He follows Mokuba into the house. In the backyard chairs are arranged, and the pedestal for the casket awaits the guest of honor. A ballroom is being set up for the wake, tables laid out with finger foods and weak alcohol -- as though a light lunch will make everyone feel better about having buried their friend, their family, or their amiable enemy.

Jounouchi's cell phone vibrates in his pocket; he answers it after a moment's deliberation. God forbid it's the funeral home with a problem. "Yes?"

"We may have a lead on the car that killed Mr. Kaiba."

#

Jounouchi is still curled over the toilet, his stomach spasms easing only because his body has (probably) realized the futility of his vomiting, when Mokuba kneels by his side.

"Jounouchi..."

He heaves again, his arms shaking as he grips the edges of the porcelain bowl. Jounouchi gasps for air and clenches his eyes shut, knuckles white, sweat beading on his forehead. He needs to get his shit together, and fast. He needs to be there when they bury Kaiba.

Mokuba is rubbing his back, his gaze averted -- probably out of respect. The Kaiba brothers always had a distaste for weakness. "They don't think it was an accident anymore." He says it carefully, and Jounouchi can't identify any one emotion in Mokuba's voice.

"What does that mean for us?" Jounouchi's stomach twitches threateningly again, but holds. He sits back, leaning wearily against the cool tile wall. "What do they know?"

Their eyes meet. Mokuba licks his lips and hesitates for a second before he says, "They want us to postpone the funeral."

Rage settles, warm and familiar in Jounouchi's gut. It's almost a comfort to start _feeling_ again.

#

They meet Detective Shintanda in the parlor, away from the funeral that's being postponed by the bewildered staff. Guests are being led to refreshments without explanation, and the hearse is heading back to the funeral home.

"You incompetent shits!" Jounouchi seethes as Mokuba closes the door behind him. "You motherfuckers! You pull us apart, you pat us on the back and promise us that you'll find some justice, and then you come here to disrupt Kaiba Seto's funeral? I should have you fucking stripped of your titles and honors."

Detective Shintanda takes this with surprising ease, and Mokuba stands by Jounouchi's side. "I assure you that this outcome was unforeseeable. There was a car found abandoned far north, near Hachinohe. We only just got the memo late last night. Preliminary forensics indicates that it's the car that hit Mr. Kaiba. We want to exam the body once more, based on this."

Mokuba takes a deep breath. "What more could you possibly learn? You already checked my brother for trace elements, for this kind of information -- what aren't you telling us?"

Detective Shintanda has the good grace to look uncomfortable for a moment. "Can I request that we take a seat?" He takes one himself, despite not being invited to do so, and leans against his knees. Mokuba sits himself, but Jounouchi keeps his distance, keeps standing. He wants to be at the advantage to hit the motherfucker, should it come up. He has a feeling it might.

The Detective blows out a small breath, and says, "There was a smashed up computer in the trunk -- apparently Mr. Kaiba's." He looks at Jounouchi, and adds, "We were unaware it was missing from his personal effects."

"I hadn't checked his bags," Jounouchi replies. He bites his tongue for a minute, trying to keep the anger warm inside him. The idea of opening Kaiba's bags makes him want to be ill again. "It didn't seem necessary."

"We were able to recover enough information from the computer. There are some e-mails that my department are working on, that indicate Mr. Kaiba may have been smuggling some component in his person."

 _In his person._ Jounouchi moves to hit him, but stops at Mokuba's upraised hand. "You mean my brother was transporting something under his skin? He wouldn't. You'd have to know my brother, but he couldn't bear it."

"Nonetheless, we would like to examine him once more, with this new information."

Mokuba looks at Jounouchi, the question all over his face -- the confusion probably mirrored on Jounouchi's own. It wasn't possible, they would have known. Kaiba wouldn't keep a secret so close, not anymore. "I want my department to handle the laptop. We're more likely to know what he used. Have the files and hardware you have sent to Kaiba Corporation immediately, and I'll assemble a team."

Detective Shintanda, perhaps realizing it was his only chance to get at the body at all, nods.

Jounouchi looks out the window, to the pedestal where Kaiba's coffin is supposed to be raised for honoring. He sighs, resigned to what needs to be done. "Take him, then. Treat him with respect." Jounouchi turns, and glares as he meets eyes with the Detective. "You think the worst of him now. I hope you'll regret that."

And the rage disappears, almost in an instant. When Jounouchi finally sits, he's sure that he'll never have the energy to stand again.


	7. VII: The Room They Picked

**VII: The Room They Picked**

The room they picked to desecrate his lover's remains is large enough for the show and uncomfortably sterile. Jounouchi can't quite bring himself to look at the corpse that had been Kaiba just a week previous. If he closes his eyes Jounouchi can hear Kaiba's laugh when they shared breakfast on the deck two weeks ago, can feel the press of Kaiba's hand against his back as they slept. 

Jounouchi forces himself to honor Kaiba by looking at him. His stomach turns at the right of abraded and rigid knuckles, the curve of one shoulder, the broken line of Kaiba's nose... Jounouchi fights the urge to be sick once more. He wants to go home to the parlor where he had asked the newest butler to restock the bar.

Mokuba watches with his shoulders and spine straight. There's no sign of weakness in him at all. Detective Shintanda seems just as at ease. Jounouchi wants to know what's so wrong with them, that they can just watch as Kaiba is exposed.

Mokuba had picked his own doctor for the examination; the man examines the body from the top down. The detective had wanted to do an MRI to find the object, the Mobuka refused. ("Too many witnesses," Mokuba had insisted. "This remains between the fours of us until we know exactly what we're dealing with.")

"If they don't find anything..." Mokuba doesn't complete the thought as the doctor's examination follows the bath of Kaiba's uneven spine. 

Jounouchi breathes deep and realizes that the smell is all cleaner and formaldehyde, Kaiba's scent lost from the world. He nearly weeps for the scent he had never appreciated enough.

"I'll resign," the detective says, all seriousness in his voice. "I'm sure whatever you could orchestrate would be worse."

Mokuba's face is like a mask. "Damn right."

The doctor's gloved hands move with an obvious attention to detail, all his focus on his task. He's an older man, one Jounouchi recognizes -- the old family physician, from when Mokuba was much younger. Kaiba had never trusted his own health to the man, but he had always made sure Mokuba had good care. The doctor had understood how much more that was worth.

Jounouchi, after much deep breathing, looks into Kaiba's face. The features seem to be made a wax, a facsimile of Kaiba made by someone who had only met the man once. Jounouchi feels like he's lost Kaiba all over again.

"I've found something," the doctor says as he prods the area just over Kaiba's right hip. 

Jounouchi looks away as the doctor grabs the scalpel, but looks back when Mokuba draws in a sharp breath.

The doctor holds up a small square of rubber the size of a thumbprint. The perfect size for a data card. 

Jounouchi is too stunned to be angry. "Who would put that there?"

"Our intelligence indicates that Mr. Kaiba arranged to have it put there," Detective Shintanda says as the doctor cleans the pale rubber and sets it aside on a metal plate.

"He wouldn't -- "

"Not for a second do I believe -- "

Mokuba and Jounouchi stop and look at each other, clearly of one mind. Jounouchi looks at Kaiba again. The rage returns in a rush, and he storms out of the sterile room, from the secrets that Kaiba had kept, after all the years...!

"Jounouchi!"

He looks at Yuugi, sitting in the waiting room. Jounouchi's face burns. His knuckles pop with the force of his fists, and he feels the tension running from his ankles to his shoulders, winding and tightening. All he can think is, _What life did he have without me -- what secrets had he deemed so worthy, after he had promised that he was done with secrets?_

Jounouchi is too old for dishonestly, though he almost feels young again as his fists connect with stone wall, once twice thrice. His knuckles are bleeding when security arrives to restrain him. 

Yuugi tries to say something reassuring, his voice raised but still too quiet to be heard over the blood rushing in Jounouchi's ears.

There are no reassurances left. There are no answers.

#

That afternoon, unable to face Mokuba after his outburst, Jounouchi returns to the condo that he and Kaiba had called their home in Domino. 

As the door closes he begins to regret the decision, all alone in the three-bedroom "love nest" that had once been so inviting and homey. Kaiba picked it because he wanted "something small enough that I can see it all." 

Jounouchi had laughed when he first saw it, amazed at what Kaiba considered "small." He loved it all the same.

Now it feels like a mausoleum, or maybe a museum.

Jounouchi finds the refrigerator stocked, and a three-quarter full bottle of vodka in the freezer. He doesn't even remember when they bought it, but Jounouchi mixes it with a large glass of orange juice and retreats to his bedroom.

As he sips he remembers, with uncomfortable clarity, the singular break up of his early twenties. 

[tbc]

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by Kagi, who as worked hard with me on a lot of these troublesome parts. :D


End file.
